Marshall McLuhan, W.H. Auden & Buckminster Fuller Debate the Virtues of Modern Technology & Media (1971)

45 years ago, four emi­nences took the stage at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Toron­to: Irish actor Jack Mac­Gowran, best known for his inter­pre­ta­tions of Samuel Beck­ett; Eng­lish poet and drama­tist W.H. Auden; Amer­i­can archi­tect and the­o­rist of human­i­ty’s way of life Buck­min­ster Fuller; and Cana­di­an lit­er­ary schol­ar turned media tech­nol­o­gy ora­cle Mar­shall McLuhan. Now only did all four men come from dif­fer­ent coun­tries, they came from very dif­fer­ent points on the intel­lec­tu­al and cul­tur­al map. The CBC record­ed them for broad­cast on its long-run­ning series Ideas, pref­ac­ing it with an announce­ment that “the osten­si­ble sub­ject of their dis­cus­sion is the­atre and the visu­al arts.”

Key word: osten­si­ble. “That top­ic is soon for­got­ten as two modes of per­cep­tion clash,” says the announc­er, “that of Pro­fes­sor McLuhan, who is one of the most famous inter­preters of con­tem­po­rary 20th-cen­tu­ry cul­tur­al trends, and that of W.H. Auden, who cheer­ful­ly admits to being ‘a 19th-cen­tu­ry man’ and sees no rea­son to change.” And so, though Fuller and Mac­Gowan do occa­sion­al­ly pro­vide their per­spec­tive, the pan­el turns into a rol­lick­ing debate between McLuhan and Auden, more or less from the point where the for­mer — mak­ing one of his char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly com­pelling procla­ma­tions — declares that mod­ern media brings us to a world in which “there is no audi­ence. There are only actors.” But the lat­ter objects: “I pro­found­ly dis­ap­prove of audi­ence par­tic­i­pa­tion.”

By the ear­ly 1970s, tele­vi­sion had long since found its way into homes all across Amer­i­ca, Cana­da, and Britain, but the thinkers of the time had only just begun to grap­ple with its con­se­quences. “We’ve just seen Apol­lo 14, which has some visu­al effects going with it. It’s a new type of the­ater, obvi­ous­ly,” says McLuhan, draw­ing one of many audi­ence laughs. On the sub­ject of tele­vi­sion’s con­fla­tion of fact and fic­tion, Auden does­n’t mince words: “I think TV is a very, very wicked medi­um. That’s all I can say.” McLuhan empha­sizes that, as a pro­fes­sion­al observ­er of these phe­nom­e­na, “I have stead­fast­ly reserved moral judg­ment on all media mat­ters.” Auden: “I don’t.”

Yet the author of The Age of Anx­i­ety and the author of The Guten­berg Galaxy turn out to have more in com­mon than their con­flict might sug­gest. Both in their 60s by the time of this dis­cus­sion (“Thank God I can remem­ber the world before World War I,” says the poet) and both 1930s con­verts to Catholi­cism, they also both har­bored deep sus­pi­cions of tech­nolo­gies like tele­vi­sion. Auden, who insists he would nev­er dream of owing a TV set him­self, seems to look down on it as mere­ly low­brow, but McLuhan has dark­er sus­pi­cions: “You are miss­ing the name of the game, sir. You are actu­al­ly imag­in­ing that those lit­tle images you see on TV are TV. They are not. What is TV is that fire stream pour­ing out of that tube into your gut.”

Even while pre­dict­ing still-unheard-of advances in tele­vi­su­al tech­nol­o­gy (at one point attempt­ing to engage Mac­Gowran on “the imme­di­ate prospect of four- and five-dimen­sion­al TV”), McLuhan also fore­sees it as the poten­tial spark for such cat­a­clysms as a glob­al race war, going so far as to sug­gest that “if you want to save a fan­tas­tic blood­bath on this plan­et, which will be very trau­mat­ic, very cathar­tic, and very trag­ic — in the Greek sense — we turn off TV total­ly. For good.” Auden, of course, actu­al­ly approves of that par­tic­u­lar idea of McLuhan’s, though he evinces lit­tle opti­mism about its fea­si­bil­i­ty. “Why won’t it hap­pen?” asks McLuhan. “Because peo­ple like the damn things,” he replies.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mar­shall McLuhan on the Stu­pid­est Debate in the His­to­ry of Debat­ing (1976)

The Vision­ary Thought of Mar­shall McLuhan, Intro­duced and Demys­ti­fied by Tom Wolfe

McLuhan Said “The Medi­um Is The Mes­sage”; Two Pieces Of Media Decode the Famous Phrase

W.H. Auden’s 1941 Lit­er­a­ture Syl­labus Asks Stu­dents to Read 32 Great Works, Cov­er­ing 6000 Pages

W.H. Auden Recites His 1937 Poem, ‘As I Walked Out One Evening’

Every­thing I Know: 42 Hours of Buck­min­ster Fuller’s Vision­ary Lec­tures Free Online (1975)

Bertrand Rus­sell & Buck­min­ster Fuller on Why We Should Work Less, and Live & Learn More

Bet­ter Liv­ing Through Buck­min­ster Fuller’s Utopi­an Designs: Revis­it the Dymax­ion Car, House, and Map

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Complete List of the 533 Movies & TV Shows Watched on the International Space Station

nasa-movies

Image cour­tesy of NASA

To keep some mea­sure of san­i­ty, the astro­nauts liv­ing aboard the Inter­na­tion­al Space Sta­tion (ISS), some 220 miles above our plan­et Earth, make a point of unwind­ing. Accord­ing to NASA, the astro­nauts get week­ends off. And, “on any giv­en day, crew mem­bers can watch movies, play music, read books, play cards and talk to their fam­i­lies.” Ear­li­er this year, Pale­o­Fu­ture gave us a fur­ther glimpse into what astro­naut down­time looks like, when its edi­tor, Matt Novak, print­ed a Com­plete List of Movies and TV Shows On Board the Inter­na­tion­al Space Sta­tion. Acquired through a Free­dom of Infor­ma­tion request, the list is a cat­a­logue of every film and TV show in the ISS media library. As Matt notes, there are many clas­sics (e.g. Alfred Hitchcock’s North by North­west), “plen­ty of space-themed and dystopi­an sci-fi movies” (2001: A Space Odyssey, Alien and Blade Run­ner), and a help­ful serv­ing of com­e­dy (Air­plane). Below, you can find the first 100 items on the list. Get the com­plete list–all 533 movies and TV shows–at Pale­o­fu­ture.

  1. 1941
  2. 12 Mon­keys
  3. 12 Years a Slave
  4. 2 Fast 2 Furi­ous
  5. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
  6. 2001: A Space Odyssey
  7. 21 Jump Street
  8. 24 (Sea­sons 1–8)
  9. 48 Hours
  10. 8 Mile
  11. A Christ­mas Car­ol
  12. A Christ­mas Sto­ry
  13. A Knights Tale
  14. A Man and a Woman
  15. A Night at the Opera
  16. A Night at the Rox­bury
  17. A Per­fect Mur­der
  18. A Prairie Home Com­pan­ion
  19. A Room with a View
  20. Absolute­ly Fab­u­lous (Series 1–3)
  21. Air Force One
  22. Air­plane
  23. Alias Sea­son 1
  24. Alien
  25. Alien 3
  26. Alien Res­ur­rec­tion
  27. Aliens
  28. All Good Things
  29. Along Came Pol­ly
  30. Always
  31. Amer­i­can Gang­ster
  32. Amer­i­can Sniper
  33. Amer­i­can Wed­ding
  34. An Amer­i­can in Paris
  35. An Arti­cle of Hope
  36. Ana­lyze This
  37. Anchor­man
  38. Anchor­man 2
  39. Ani­mal House (1978)
  40. Argo
  41. Armaged­don
  42. Around the World in 80 Days (1956)
  43. Around the World in 80 Days (2004)
  44. Arrow Sea­son 1
  45. Arsenic and Old Lace
  46. As Good as it Gets
  47. Austin Pow­ers Inter­na­tion­al Man of Mys­tery
  48. Austin Pow­ers The Spy Who Shagged Me
  49. Aus­tralia
  50. Avatar
  51. Baby Mama
  52. Back to Bataan
  53. Back to the Future
  54. Back to the Future Part II
  55. Back to the Future Part III
  56. Back­draft
  57. Band of Broth­ers Sea­son 1
  58. Bataan
  59. Bat­man For­ev­er
  60. Bat­man Returns
  61. Bat­tle for the Plan­et of the Apes
  62. Bat­tle of Britain
  63. Bat­tle­ship
  64. Beneath the Plan­et of the Apes
  65. Ben-Hur
  66. Bet­ter Call Saul Sea­son 1
  67. Bev­er­ly Hills Cop II
  68. Bev­er­ly Hills Cop III
  69. Big Bang The­o­ry (Sea­sons 1–8)
  70. Big Eyes
  71. Big Jake
  72. Bil­ly Jack
  73. Bird­man, or the Unex­pect­ed Virtue of Igno­rance
  74. Black Hawk Down
  75. Black Mask
  76. Black Swan
  77. Blade Run­ner
  78. Blaz­ing Sad­dles Blend­ed
  79. Blue Plan­et Frozen Seas
  80. Blue Plan­et Ocean World
  81. Blues Broth­ers
  82. Bob Newhart But­ton-Down Con­cert
  83. Body of Lies
  84. Brave­heart
  85. Break­ing Bad Sea­sons 1–6
  86. Brides­maids
  87. Bull Durham
  88. Cad­dyshack
  89. Cahill Unit­ed States Mar­shal
  90. Cap­tain Amer­i­ca: The First Avenger
  91. Cap­tain Amer­i­ca: The Win­ter Sol­dier Cap­tain Phillips
  92. Casablan­ca
  93. Cast Away
  94. Catch-22
  95. Celtic Woman Songs from the Heart
  96. Chance Are
  97. Char­i­ots of Fire
  98. Char­lie St Cloud
  99. Chil­dren of Men
  100. Chisum

Find the com­plete list of 533 films and TV shows here.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Astro­naut Chris Had­field Sings David Bowie’s “Space Odd­i­ty” On Board the Inter­na­tion­al Space Sta­tion

Every­thing You Want­ed to Know About Going to the Bath­room in Space But Were Afraid to Ask

If Astro­nauts Cry in Space, Will Their Tears Fall?

William Shat­ner Puts in a Long Dis­tance Call to Astro­naut Aboard the Inter­na­tion­al Space Sta­tion

“Charlie Rose” by Samuel Beckett: Watch Charlie Rose Meet Charlie Rose in a Comical Piece of Absurdist Theater

New York City couldn’t get enough of Ian McKel­lan and Patrick Stew­art when they appeared togeth­er in a cel­e­brat­ed 2013 revival of Samuel Beck­ett’s Wait­ing for Godot.

Five years ear­li­er, anoth­er high pro­file gent took a stab at the noto­ri­ous­ly avant-garde play­wright, and while the Inter­net took note, the same New York­ers who were des­tined to go ga ga for the adorable bowler hat­ted Brits bare­ly bat­ted a col­lec­tive eye.

Why was that?

Per­haps it’s because the ear­li­er project had a decid­ed­ly more down­town feel than the Broad­way pro­duc­tion star­ring McKel­lan and Stew­art. It was so exper­i­men­tal that its main play­er, jour­nal­ist and talk show host Char­lie Rose, a fix­ture of the New York social scene, didn’t even know he was per­form­ing in it. 

He didn’t have to. The whole thing was engi­neered by film­mak­er Andrew Fil­ip­pone Jr., in the spir­it of Beck­ett. 

By cut­ting togeth­er old footage using crowd-pleas­ing Par­ent Trap spe­cial effects, he made it pos­si­ble for Char­lie to have an absur­dist con­ver­sa­tion with him­self. It takes about 45 sec­onds to set­tle in to the prop­er sensibility—the top­ic is a bit 21st-cen­tu­ry and the famil­iar Char­lie Rose cred­its could’ve used a tweak—but once it gets going, it’s a ton of bizarre and dis­turb­ing fun.

The large table where Rose films his inter­views makes for as evoca­tive a set­ting as a bar­ren tree on a coun­try lane, a mound of earth, or a pair of garbage cans.

Beck­ett was nev­er one to shy from par­en­thet­i­cal instruc­tions, a prac­tice most play­wrights are taught to avoid on the the­o­ry that the actors should be allowed to dis­cov­er their char­ac­ters. Direc­tor Fil­ip­pone serves his muse well here, edit­ing in a host of non­ver­bal reac­tions so spe­cif­ic, they seem to be the direct embod­i­ment of some­thing writ­ten in the (non-exis­tent) script.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Conan O’Brien Plays Char­lie Rose, Talks Pres­i­den­tial His­to­ry with Edmund Mor­ris

Watch the Open­ing Cred­its of an Imag­i­nary 70s Cop Show Star­ring Samuel Beck­ett

When Samuel Beck­ett Drove Young André the Giant to School: A True Sto­ry

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her play Zam­boni Godot is open­ing in New York City in March 2017. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

On Star Trek’s 50th Anniversary, Watch New Episodes of Star Trek Continues, the Acclaimed Fan-Made Sequel to the Original TV Show

Today marks the 50th anniver­sary of the pre­miere of Star Trek, and the start of a love affair between fans and the show’s utopi­an promise. With only 79 episodes over three sea­sons in the orig­i­nal 1966–1969 series, it might have dis­ap­peared into pop cul­ture his­to­ry. Instead, it has lived long and pros­pered, with movies and sequels and New Gen­er­a­tions, and reboots and more sequels. And that’s not count­ing the labor-of-love fan films that have spawned around the fringes.

Now, fan-cre­at­ed films usu­al­ly fall down in the act­ing and effects depart­ment, or they try too hard. But even if you’re not a ded­i­cat­ed Trekkie, the inde­pen­dent­ly-pro­duced Star Trek Con­tin­ues holds up as some great sci-fi that recre­ates the orig­i­nal series’ look to per­fec­tion, while skirt­ing par­o­dy. (Plus it got the bless­ing of series cre­ator Gene Roddenberry’s son, who said his father “would con­sid­er this canon.”)

When we first told you about Star Trek Con­tin­ues in Feb­ru­ary, five hour-long episodes were view­able on YouTube or the show’s offi­cial web­site, fund­ed through two Kick­starter cam­paigns and per­son­al mon­eys from exec­u­tive pro­duc­er Vic Mignogna ($150,000) and co-exec­u­tive pro­duc­er Steven Den­gler ($100,000). Above, you can check out the two new episodes, “Come Not Between the Drag­ons” (Episode 6) and “Embrac­ing the Winds” (Episode 7). Or watch the entire series, from start to fin­ish, below.

Despite Star Trek Con­tin­ues’ not-for-prof­it sta­tus, oth­er Star Trek fan films have raised the ire of CBS and Paramount’s legal divi­sions, and may end up harm­ing the future of such endeav­ors. But remem­ber, CBS had no faith in the orig­i­nal series back in the day, plac­ing it in lat­er and lat­er time slots. It was syn­di­ca­tion that made the show a cult hit, and it was those orig­i­nal fans that lov­ing­ly fanned the embers until the show reignit­ed. For them on this half-cen­tu­ry mark, they deserve as much a thank you as the orig­i­nal crew of the Star­ship Enter­prise.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Nichelle Nichols Explains How Mar­tin Luther King Con­vinced Her to Stay on Star Trek

Watch Star Trek: New Voy­ages: The Orig­i­nal Fan-Made Sequel to the 1960s TV Series

How Isaac Asi­mov Went from Star Trek Crit­ic to Star Trek Fan & Advi­sor

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Good Morning, Mr. Orwell: Nam June Paik’s Avant-Garde New Year’s Celebration with Laurie Anderson, John Cage, Peter Gabriel & More

In his New York Times “TV Week­end” col­umn of Decem­ber 30, 1983, John O’Con­nor wrote up the sched­uled “tele­vi­sion fes­tiv­i­ties for the eve of 1984,” includ­ing the Guy Lom­bar­do Orches­tra at the Wal­dorf-Asto­ria; a spe­cial from CBS who, “look­ing for an updat­ed image,” got Andy Williams to broad­cast from the Plaza Hotel; Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve on NBC fea­tur­ing Rick James, Cul­ture Club, and Bar­ry Manilow; and on a cer­tain new “Music-TV chan­nel,” live per­for­mances at the Savoy Club by Bil­ly Idol, the Stray Cats, Cyn­di Lau­per, and the Thomp­son Twins, who could­n’t have made too late a night of it — they had to play again on New Year’s day, on a pub­lic tele­vi­sion sta­tion plan­ning to try “some­thing con­sid­er­ably more ambi­tious.”

As 1984 began, a one-time-only broad­cast (avail­able on YouTube) brought togeth­er the avant-garde tal­ents of Lau­rie Ander­son, Peter Gabriel, Yves Mon­tand, John Cage, Mer­ce Cun­ning­ham, Allen Gins­berg, Joseph Beuys, Philip Glass, and Oin­go Boin­go.

What’s more, it all hap­pened at the busi­ly image-manip­u­lat­ing hands of video artist Nam June Paik, as writer, Paris Review edi­tor, and sports­man George Plimp­ton played host. Its con­tent came live via satel­lite from stu­dios in New York, Paris, and San Fran­cis­co. Paik titled this tech­no­log­i­cal­ly and aes­thet­i­cal­ly dar­ing pro­duc­tion Good Morn­ing, Mr. Orwell, as a kind of scoff at the drab, dystopi­an 1984 from the more excit­ing real one. 25 mil­lion peo­ple tuned in.

Quot­ing Paik’s descrip­tion of his broad­cast as “sym­bol­ic of how tele­vi­sion can cross bor­ders and pro­vide a lib­er­at­ing infor­ma­tion-com­mu­ni­ca­tions ser­vice,” O’Con­nor high­lights such com­ing attrac­tions as Ander­son and Gabriel’s open­ing per­for­mance, cel­list and long­time Paik col­lab­o­ra­tor Char­lotte Moor­man “recre­at­ing Mr. Paik’s famous, or noto­ri­ous, ‘TV Cel­lo,’ ” “Robert Rauschen­berg, the artist, con­tribut­ing com­men­tary, “a per­for­mance by Urban Sax, con­sist­ing of 80 ‘futur­is­ti­cal­ly cos­tumed’ musi­cians, and, via video­tape from West Ger­many, Sal­vador Dali and the com­pos­er Karl­heinz Stock­hausen.”

Paik and his col­lab­o­ra­tors real­ly do pack Good Morn­ing, Mr. Orwell’s hour of tele­vi­sion with an incred­i­ble amount of con­tent. That con­tent dif­fered depend­ing on whether you watched the ver­sion broad­cast out of WNET in New York or the one out of the Cen­tre Pom­pi­dou in Paris, some­times accord­ing to plan, some­times as a result of inevitable tech­ni­cal dif­fi­cul­ties. The inter­sec­tion of exper­i­men­tal art with still near­ly exper­i­men­tal tech­nol­o­gy pro­duces all the hitch­es, glitch­es, delays, and impro­vi­sa­tions you’d expect.

The good-natured Paik con­sid­ered it all part of the live-ness of the art, all just events in the “glob­al dis­co” he’d built out of the lat­est elec­tron­ic media tech­nol­o­gy. The son of a for­mer­ly well-to-do fam­i­ly who fled Korea for Japan at the out­break of the Kore­an War, he went to Ger­many to study avant-garde com­po­si­tion after grad­u­at­ing from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Tokyo with a degree in aes­thet­ics. He start­ed work­ing with tele­vi­sions in the ear­ly 1960s, when he could buy old sec­ond­hand mod­els cheap­ly. Using paint, neon, cam­eras, and much else besides, he turned these dis­card­ed sets into all man­ner of whim­si­cal elec­tron­ic sculp­tures.

“He’s made a TV bud­dha, he’s made a TV gar­den, he’s made a TV chair, a TV pyra­mid, a TV bra!” Moor­man explains to Plimp­ton toward the end of this artis­tic extrav­a­gan­za as she read­ies her­self to play Paik’s TV cel­lo. As it hap­pens, I just last week laid eyes on the TV cel­lo myself, still upright, glow­ing, and pre­sum­ably ready to play a decade after Paik’s death (and a quar­ter-cen­tu­ry after Moor­man’s) at Seoul’s Dong­dae­mun Design Plaza. They’ve got a whole show ded­i­cat­ed to Paik’s work up and run­ning through Octo­ber, all of it as enter­tain­ing and pre­scient as ever. ”I nev­er read Orwell’s book — it’s bor­ing,” he once admit­ted, though that did­n’t stop him from pre­dict­ing things about the future the author of 1984 did­n’t.

“Orwell por­trayed tele­vi­sion as a neg­a­tive medi­um, use­ful to dic­ta­tors for one-way com­mu­ni­ca­tion. Of course, he was half-right,” said Paik, who want­ed to “show its poten­tial for inter­ac­tion, its pos­si­bil­i­ties as a medi­um for peace and glob­al under­stand­ing. It can spread out, cross inter­na­tion­al bor­ders, pro­vide lib­er­at­ing infor­ma­tion, maybe even­tu­al­ly punch a hole in the Iron Cur­tain.’ ” (He even envi­sioned a now famil­iar-sound­ing “glob­al uni­ver­si­ty” where “vast quan­ti­ties of up-to-date infor­ma­tion on every con­ceiv­able sub­ject can be stored, with com­put­ers to pro­vide instant retrieval.”) The Iron Cur­tain would fall just five years lat­er, but we’ve only just begun, after more than three decades, to explore the bor­der-cross­ing, infor­ma­tion-lib­er­at­ing poten­tial of elec­tron­ic media.

Find anoth­er ver­sion of Good Morn­ing Mr. Orwell at UBUweb.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John Cage Plays Ampli­fied Cac­ti and Plant Mate­ri­als with a Feath­er (1984)

John Cage Per­forms Water Walk on US Game Show I’ve Got a Secret (1960)

George Plimp­ton, Paris Review Founder, Pitch­es 1980s Video Games for the Mat­tel Intel­livi­sion

Chris Bur­den (R.I.P.) Turns Late-Night TV Com­mer­cials Into Con­cep­tu­al Art

When Glenn O’Brien’s TV Par­ty Brought Klaus Nomi, Blondie & Basquiat to Pub­lic Access TV (1978–82)

Rid­ley Scott Talks About Mak­ing Apple’s Land­mark “1984” Com­mer­cial, Aired 30 Years Ago on Super Bowl Sun­day

How to Send an E‑mail: A 1984 British Tele­vi­sion Broad­cast Explains This “Sim­ple” Process

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Oscar-Winning Filmmaker Errol Morris Creates a Commercial for Depend Adult Diapers

There’s a gen­der assump­tion for every stage of life these days. From gen­der-cod­ed Lego play sets and teen mag­a­zines, we progress to light­weight, pink tool sets or their more tra­di­tion­al, appar­ent­ly “mas­cu­line” coun­ter­part.

After that?

Adult dia­pers.

Phys­i­cal­ly, it makes sense that the lat­ter would divide along assigned gen­der lines. Biol­o­gy may not be the trump card it was once con­sid­ered to be, but, in gen­er­al, it con­tin­ues to vis­it wider hips on those born female organs than those rock­ing the frank n’ beans.  

(That said, as the moth­er of babies, I always appre­ci­at­ed when a reli­able brand went the extra mile with uni­sex pat­terns on the tapes or waist band.)

Film­mak­er Errol Mor­ris chose to widen the gen­der divide in 2009, when he was hired to direct a Depend spot, fea­tur­ing the company’s new line of gen­der-spe­cif­ic adult dia­pers, above.

In the end, the prod­uct itself was wait­ing in the wings, so a cou­ple of cute midlife inter­vie­wees could take turns describ­ing their impres­sions of a sin­gle Rorschach blot. 

Don’t wor­ry. It’s got noth­ing to do with absorben­cy.

The female sub­ject imme­di­ate­ly begins to spin a fan­ci­ful tale involv­ing two cute birds, while the male hems and haws, appar­ent­ly the vic­tim of some trag­ic gen­der-based lack of imag­i­na­tion. I bet he doesn’t like stop­ping to ask for direc­tions either.

Giv­en this director’s track record of grip­ping doc­u­men­taries, I think I’d have pre­ferred a more straight­for­ward approach. I’d be up for a full-length doc­u­men­tary about the expe­ri­ence of actu­al­ly wear­ing those things, espe­cial­ly if Mor­ris used his Inter­ro­tron to elic­it frank eye con­tact, as he does above. 

It’s an uncom­fort­able sub­ject for sure, but I’d like to hear how adult dia­pers impact an indi­vid­u­al’s sense of attrac­tive­ness and self-worth. I would­n’t want Mor­ris to gen­er­al­ize, but by and large, is it a rad­i­cal­ly dif­fer­ent expe­ri­ence for men than it is for women?

Per­haps the riff­ing pair in the com­mer­cial spot have more famil­iar­i­ty with the prod­uct than they were allowed to let on? If so, I’d imag­ine it’s from car­ing for an elder­ly rel­a­tive, but I could be wrong. Either way, those would be sto­ries I’d like to hear.

Per­haps this is a top­ic best tack­led by Wern­er Her­zog

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“They Were There” — Errol Mor­ris Final­ly Directs a Film for IBM

Bob Geld­of Talks About the Great­est Day of His Life, Step­ping on the Stage of Live Aid, in a Short Doc by Errol Mor­ris

Her­mann Rorschach’s Orig­i­nal Rorschach Test: What Do You See? (1921)

Fellini’s Fan­tas­tic TV Com­mer­cials

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her lat­est script, Fawn­book, is avail­able in a dig­i­tal edi­tion from Indie The­ater Now.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Angelo Badalamenti Reveals How He and David Lynch Composed the Twin Peaks’ “Love Theme”


On my last trip to New York, some friends took me to a favorite new-wave Chi­nese place of theirs. When I asked where to find the bath­room, they said to go down­stairs. The stair­case deposit­ed me into one of the most sur­re­al bath­room approach­es I’ve ever expe­ri­enced: a long, nar­row, ful­ly mir­rored hall­way with a haunt­ing­ly famil­iar com­po­si­tion piped in from speak­ers installed along its length. Not until I resur­faced and asked what the deal was could I iden­ti­fy the music: the “Love Theme” from David Lynch’s ear­ly-1990s tele­vi­sion series Twin Peaks.

Many TV themes have lodged them­selves into our col­lec­tive mem­o­ry, most­ly through sheer rep­e­ti­tion, but few have retained as much evoca­tive pow­er as the one Lynch’s com­pos­er, Ange­lo Badala­men­ti, record­ed for his short-lived post­mod­ern detec­tive show.

It had that pow­er from the moment Badala­men­ti put his fin­gers to the key­board, a sto­ry told in the clip above. “What do you see, David?” he remem­bers ask­ing the direc­tor as he sits down before the very same Fend­er Rhodes on which he com­posed Twin Peaks’ major themes all those years ago. “Just talk to me.”

“We’re in a dark woods,” Badala­men­ti recalls Lynch first say­ing. “There’s a soft wind blow­ing through sycamore trees. There’s a moon out, some ani­mal sounds in the back­ground. You can hear the hoot of an owl. Just get me into that beau­ti­ful dark­ness.” Badala­men­ti plays as he played then, which drew an imme­di­ate response from Lynch: “Ange­lo, that’s great. I love that. That’s a good mood. But can you play it slow­er?” With the feed­back loop between the scene in Lynch’s mind and the mood of Badala­men­ti’s music engaged, Lynch added a detail: “From behind a tree, in the back of the woods, is this very lone­ly girl. Her name is Lau­ra Palmer.”

Badala­men­ti light­ens his impro­vi­sa­tion in a way that makes it some­how eerier. “That’s it!” The com­pos­er and the direc­tor play off one anoth­er’s ideas, almost like two long-col­lab­o­rat­ing musi­cians in a jam ses­sion. “She’s walk­ing toward the cam­era, she’s com­ing clos­er… just keep build­ing it! Just keep build­ing it!” Even­tu­al­ly, they’ve cre­at­ed an entire ris­ing and falling dra­mat­ic arc in this sin­gle piece of music (arguably more dra­mat­ic than the one cre­at­ed by the series itself, which Lynch left after two sea­sons). “David got up, gave me a big hug, and said, ‘Ange­lo, that’s Twin Peaks’ ” — and to this day, a part of the cul­ture.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear the Music of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Played by the Dan­ish Nation­al Sym­pho­ny Orches­tra

Play the Twin Peaks Video Game: Retro Fun for David Lynch Fans

David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Title Sequence, Recre­at­ed in an Adorable Paper Ani­ma­tion

David Lynch Draws a Map of Twin Peaks (to Help Pitch the Show to ABC)

Hear the Music of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Played by the Exper­i­men­tal Band, Xiu Xiu: A Free Stream of Their New Album

Ele­men­tary School Stu­dents Per­form in a Play Inspired by David Lynch’s Twin Peaks

David Lynch Directs a Mini-Sea­son of Twin Peaks in the Form of Japan­ese Cof­fee Com­mer­cials

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Big Super Cut of Saturday Night Live Cast Members Breaking Character and Cracking Up

Corps­ingaka laugh­ing inap­pro­pri­ate­ly onstage—requires far less skill than sol­dier­ing on when the actor play­ing oppo­site los­es con­trol, an occur­rence that almost always wins audi­ence favor.

The recent­ly released super cuts of Sat­ur­day Night Live cast mem­bers’ com­po­sure desert­ing them, above and below, sug­gest that the worst offend­ers are aware that view­ers will lap up these laps­es. Why strive to stay in char­ac­ter when bloop­er reel star­dom awaits?

It’s a fact that these crack ups have the abil­i­ty to loosen things up, recall­ing that free­wheel­ing peri­od before the show became the insti­tu­tion its cast mem­bers dreamed of audi­tion­ing for since child­hood.

It’s unclear what—if any—meaning we should ascribe to the evi­dence that the most indul­gent gig­glers are all male.

Could it be that women are fun­ny after all… enough to win the sort of punch­lines that’ll make the boys lose it on cam­era?

If so, per­haps we can arrange for aliens to abduct the next com­men­ta­tor who sug­gests oth­er­wise, probe him, then seat him oppo­site a bewigged Kate McK­in­non. No offense to guest host Ryan Gosling, the embod­i­ment of a good sport. His inabil­i­ty to stay in char­ac­ter was both under­stat­ed and heart­warm­ing, and he was­n’t pan­der­ing. SNL reg­u­lars Aidy Bryant and Bob­by Moyni­han strug­gled too. I still wager a lot of fun­ny ladies watched that Close Encoun­ters skit, and root­ed for McK­in­non to be giv­en the oppor­tu­ni­ty to take down an old school chau­vin­ist pig.

But not every­one delights in watch­ing these guys run off the rails, as Slate’s Jes­si­ca Win­ter notes in a piece about SNL’s corps­ing phe­nom­e­non:

Tra­cy Mor­gan exco­ri­at­ed his fel­low cast mem­ber (Jim­my Fal­lon) for “laugh­ing and all that dumb shit he used to do,” explain­ing, “That’s tak­ing all the atten­tion off of every­body else and putting it on you, like, ‘Oh, look at me, I’m the cute one.’

It’s true that the cam­era nev­er could resist cast mem­ber Bill Hader’s elab­o­rate, utter­ly unsuc­cess­ful attempts to bring his face to heel. Wit­ness the dress rehearsal for the West Coast-fla­vored soap opera spoof, The Cal­i­for­ni­ans, below. Amaz­ing how lit­tle it changed en route to per­for­mance.

The writ­ers out­did them­selves when they bestowed a sig­na­ture ges­ture on anoth­er of Hader’s recur­rent char­ac­ters, New York City cul­tur­al com­men­ta­tor, Ste­fon. His new­found pro­cliv­i­ty for hid­ing his face behind his hands could’ve helped the actor pull it togeth­er, but instead it turned into a bit. Won­der what Tra­cy Mor­gan thought when Had­er attrib­uted his inabil­i­ty to keep a straight face to his straight man / Week­end Update foil Seth Myers:

A per­son being patient with an insane per­son is my favorite thing in the world…. You were being so patient with this mani­ac who had the sim­plest job in the world.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Don Par­do (1918–2014), Voice of Sat­ur­day Night Live, Sug­gests Using Short Words

John Belushi’s Impro­vised Screen Test for Sat­ur­day Night Live (1975)

Father Gui­do Sar­duc­ci Pitch­es “The Five Minute Uni­ver­si­ty”

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her lat­est script, Fawn­book, is avail­able in a dig­i­tal edi­tion from Indie The­ater Now.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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